Fate of the Galaxy
by PangurBan1
Summary: Up until now Rick has always managed to keep his freedom fighting activities completely separate from his family life. His perfect system breaks down when Jerry stows away on a routine adventure and becomes irrevocably entangled in Rick's secret plot to save two worlds from self-destruction.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"All right listen to me, Morty, I don't wanna stay here any longer than we have to. It's-it's a nasty situation they have going on here, enemy occupation and everything. Let's just get in and get out, ten minutes - _erhp_ \- tops, and then we're on our way to BLIPS AND CHITZ!"

Rick threw his hands in the air and started busting some moves from the driver's seat while Morty looked for something to grab onto before the inevitable turbulence that accompanied drunk/dance driving.

"D-did you say enemy occupation? That sounds pretty bad R-Rick. Are you sure it's safe?"

"It'll be _fine,_ " Rick responded, drunkenly leaning toward Morty, which caused the ship to sway disturbingly in the same direction. "Ya know, as long as the cat's away, or whatever."

Morty wasn't sure if the "cat" Rick was referring to was proverbial or somehow related to the alien race they had met last weekend that was prone to purging, but he quickly realized that he might be better off not thinking about it. He was getting very good at not thinking about things.

The ship closed in on the dry, desert moon, landing in an area that had a distinct 1960s urban look to it. Rick took a quick swig out of his flask and threw the door open, stumbling out and seeming to forget for a moment which way was up and which was down. He looked back at Morty, whose seatbelt was still buckled.

"Well, a- _ah-_ are you coming or not?"

"S-sure, Rick," Morty quickly answered, "It's just, I mean, I just think it's a bad idea to leave dad all alone in the ship." He gestured awkwardly to Jerry, who timidly waved from the back seat.

"Aw, shit! Why didn't you remind me to drop him off at day care?!" Rick said, face-palming.

"I forgot he was here too…"

"You know, this is exactly how babies end up locked in hot cars," Rick said, taking another angrier swig from his flask.

"That's awful, Rick!"

"I'm with ya there, Morty. Dead babies are no joke. Hurry and get out, Morty, I- _ah-_ I'll just tell the ship to take care of him-"

"No!" Morty adamantly responded, hopping out of the ship to put his foot down literally and figuratively. "The last time you told the ship to take care of somebody, ice cream was ruined for an entire earth dimension! A-and people _died_ , Rick!"

"Okay! Okay. Jeez. Come on, Jerry, get out of the ship, and for god's sakes, stop stowing away on our adventures!

Jerry hopped out, his fists up near his face with glee. "Yay! I'm going on an adventure!

"Yeah, yeah, just do exactly what I say and do NOT under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES shake hands with any of the natives. That goes for you too, Morty."

"What's wrong with the natives? Do you they have d-diseases or something?" Morty asked, hugging himself as he glanced nervously at his surroundings.

"No, worse. They can steal your organs through skin-to-skin contact, Morty. I mean, they don't _all_ do that of course, but you gotta be careful as tourists in the big city like this. I've had a buddy come here and return without a-a kidney, with no clue when or how it happened…his goddamned kidney, Morty! Just—just don't touch anyone, okay?"

Morty swallowed and nodded, but his eyes remained perpetually widened in utter terror for the uncertain fate of his kidneys.

Rick led the way into a loud, stiflingly crowded bar, filled with humanoid aliens with dark-blue skin, weird finlike ears, and two pairs of arms. Morty's eyes were drawn to an image on the opposite wall of an orange humanoid with feathered ears, whose number of arms was hidden by the strange, ornate robe he wore. The blue humanoids were taking turns tossing darts at the poster.

"Why don't you and your dad go play some darts while your grandpa meets up with an old friend? They _love_ teaching newcomers," Rick said, pressing Morty toward the crowd of people gathered around the poster.

"Rick, I swear, if you're selling guns to murderers again-"

"No, no, nothing like that. Can't afford unstable clients like that anyway, they keep dying on me. You guys just chill for a little bit, I'll be back in five minutes."

"R-Rick!" Morty tried to protest, but his grandfather had already disappeared into the crowd. Growling with frustration, he grabbed Jerry's arm and pulled him toward the game of darts. If they had to be separated from Rick, Morty reasoned, they damn well better stay where Rick will know to find them again.

Rick was right, the blue aliens—Laurokians, Morty thought he heard someone say—loved teaching newcomers how to throw the weird, heavy darts at the wall. After a round of darts to the face of whoever that weird orange alien was, the Laurokians pulled a switch that flipped the poster around, revealing a somewhat standard-looking round target. Two bull's-eyes later, Morty was getting friendly pats on the back and teaching Laurokians how to fist bump. He didn't notice Jerry (who couldn't hit the target for the life of him) wander out the back door for some fresh air.

Jerry found himself in a long alley where the backs of bright green apartment buildings glowed eerily in the setting sun. He sighed and looked down the creepy backstreet, hoping to find a comfortable place to sit and wait for Rick. A street lamp suddenly lit up, and a splash of red, white, and blue caught his eye. He cautiously approached the strange object, and his stomach clenched when he saw what it was. A Laurokian woman was sitting there, her back propped up against one of the fluorescent apartments. All four of her hands were over a hole in her chest, where disturbingly _human-_ looking blood poured out, rapidly dyeing her white dress a deep shade of crimson.

"Holy mother of-!" Jerry cut himself off, realizing that whoever shot this woman was probably still close by. He took a quick glance around, relieved to find the darkening alley surprisingly empty and still but for the gasping, bleeding woman.

"H-help me," the Laurokian said, one of her four arms reaching out to Jerry.

Jerry grimaced, feeling the familiar sting of his own uselessness. "You're going to be fine, I'll go get my father-in-law, he'll take care of you. He'll get you to an alien hospital, it's amazing what those places can-"

"N-no time," the woman said, now gesturing with all four hands for Jerry to come closer. Jerry didn't have the heart to abandon her. He knelt down next to her and held two of her hands while she panted, choking on blood. When she spoke again it was with calm authority, and the bloodstained, ceremonial dress she wore gave Jerry the impression that she was a leader of some sort, possibly even royalty.

"Our oppressors, the P-Parckellites from the planet we orbit…They want my son d-dead. I-I am worth nothing, but my son's fate is d-directly tied to the fate of the galaxy… H-he needs protection." Her three-fingered hands tightened on Jerry's, her knuckles turning from blue to a pale, sickly white. Despite the desperation in her words, her face remained regal; it was clear that she had never begged for anything in her life. Even now, choking to death on her own blood, she seemed to _know_ that her will would be carried out, regardless of who or what the person kneeling before her was.

Jerry put on his best "white knight" face. This was his (second) chance to do something important for the fate of the galaxy ( _"In the name of Earth!"_ he thought, valiantly) and damned if he was going to let that chance slip away (again).

"Dearest Laurokimite," Jerry began, his eyes shining with real tears-

"Laurokian," the woman corrected, somehow finding the strength to shoot him a withering glare. (" _Yes, this human will do, but that doesn't mean somebody else—well, really anybody else—would do better_.")

"Dearest Laurokian," Jerry began again, only momentarily losing his "white knight" persona, "I will guard your son with my life. Not one of those Parckellite _scum_ will lay a hand on him."

The woman heard him and believed him. Looking past this pathetic doormat of a human, she saw a man desperate to do something good, to be of some use to others, and not just for his own benefit. ( _"God, I wish he was a woman, though…"_ )

"Thank you," she said, and meant it. "You have saved us all." With her third and fourth hands, the dying woman reached up and lifted a tiny chain from her neck, revealing the blue amulet that hung from it. She pulled it over her head and offered it to Jerry.

"P-put this on immediately. It is how my people will know that you are the protector I have chosen."

Jerry broke his grip with the woman to throw the chain around his neck and tuck the amulet into his green polo shirt. Shouts began to echo down the alley as flashlights pierced the darkness.

"Y-you must go!" the woman said, blood gurgling in her throat.

"Not without you!" Jerry replied. (" _That_ is _what a hero would say, right?"_ ) The woman shook her head, more blood dripping from her mouth. ( _"Idiot!"_ )

"I-it is t-too late for m-me, g-go!"

"I'll never forget you-" ( _"She never even told me her name…"_ )

"Go!"

Jerry stood, and with one last glance at the dying Laurokian, he turned and sprinted out of the alley just as a band of Parckellites caught sight of their wounded quarry. Jerry heard gunfire as he ran back to Rick's ship, and he couldn't help the tears that began to stream down his face.

* * *

"Where the _hell_ have you been?!" Rick shouted as his idiot son-in-law sprinted into view. The ship was already running, Morty all buckled up in the shotgun seat and Rick with his hands on the controls.

"Didn't you hear the gunfire, Jerry?" Rick didn't even look up, he just began spouting off things that made no sense to his family as he pushed (hopefully not random) buttons. "Shit's going down—probably another massacre, things have gotten real heavy since that Parckellite prince ascended the throne—what the hell are you waiting for? Get _in_! Now!" Rick finally looked up to see Jerry's tear-streaked face.

"Wha—Are you _crying?_ " Mortal peril or not, Rick _never_ wasted an opportunity like this. "Aww, were you thinking about your shit-eating Doofus friend again?"

"Shut up, Rick," Jerry said, wiping the tears away with his sleeve and hopping into the back seat. "There's something important we—I—have to do."

"What's that now?" Rick said, distracted. The sound of the firefight began to fade as the ship took off.

"I said there's something important I have to do."

Rick's brow furrowed. That wasn't Jerry's defensive _or_ cocky voice. In fact, nothing about it sounded like Jerry at all. Rick slammed his foot on the brake pedal, forcing a surprised yelp from his grandson's mouth. He turned entirely around, resting one elbow on his seat as he stared intensely at his son-in-law.

"What happened while you were alone?"

"There was a woman. She…she-"

"Did she rape you?" Rick asked, completely serious. He glanced at Morty, who was staring back at him, a clear "what the hell, Rick?" look on his face. Rick just shrugged.

" _No!_ " Jerry responded in the familiar defensive tone that Rick knew and despised. "She was hurt—dying! Someone shot her in the chest, and she needed help."

Rick's palm collided with his face. "No, no, no, NO! God, Jerry, tell me you didn't touch her!"

"I-wha? What does that matter? I mean, I held her hands briefly, but that's not the important part. She told me-"

"Dammit, Jerry, you _IDIOT._ What did I tell you about touching the Laurokians? She probably stole your goddamned _lung!_ " Rick turned back to the controls and veered the ship hard to the right.

"R-Rick? Where are we going?" Morty said, his voice sounding even smaller than normal.

"We're getting your father to the alien hospital on Parckel before he dies from organ failure. You know, as in organ _"failure to exist?'"_ His words were filled with bitter sarcasm, but there was a clear hint of worry there too.

"No! NOT Parckel!" Jerry yelled from the back seat. "They're the ones who shot her! They're oppressing the Laurok people, and they want her son dead!"

The ship came to a sudden stop again, forcing another higher pitched yelp from Morty. Rick turned around again. " _What_ did you just say?" His eyes burned with an intense interest, a look that he had literally _never_ given Jerry before.

"The woman said that the Parckellites were oppressing the Laurokians, and that they wanted her son dead because he—um…he…"

"Will control the fate of the galaxy?" Rick finished for him, dead serious. Jerry nodded.

"The woman you spoke to…Was she pregnant?" Rick asked.

"She—huh? What?"

Rick reached out and grabbed the collar of that _stupid_ green polo, pulling his son-in-law close. "I said _was she pregnant?_ Think, Jerry, think! We're talking 'fate of the galaxy' here!"

"I-I didn't notice! There was so much blood…"

"Did she die? Is she dead?"

Jerry nodded, his eyes filling with tears again. "I didn't see it happen, but I heard the voices and the gunshots."

"Dad! Rick! What's going on here? None of this makes any sense!" Morty suddenly broke in, tired of being the only one with literally no clue what was happening.

"Dammit, this is bad…" Rick said, thoroughly ignoring his grandson. "If that woman was who I think she was, there's going to be war between planet and moon. Once the Laurokians hear that their leader and the unborn Chosen One were killed, they won't care how many casualties there are. They'll risk everything in an all-out attack on Parckel."

"I don't understand," Jerry said, trying to pull away from Rick's iron grip. ( _"Ugh, why do I feel so heavy today? That's it, no more Cinnabon with venti triple-shot caramel latte for breakfast…"_ ) "The woman I talked to said that her son needed protection. She asked me to protect him!"

"That doesn't make any sense!" Rick shouted. "My contact—I mean, my, uh, friend at the bar said that Isolde was still pregnant, he just saw her today! God, Isolde…Did-did she tell you _where_ her son was?"

"Of course she did, she—oh. Um, I guess she, uh…didn't," Jerry finished, pathetically.

"She told you to protect him, but she didn't tell you where he was…" Rick mused, releasing his hold on Jerry's shirt. Staring at that _stupid_ polo, he tilted his head, curiously. Something about the way the shirt fell wasn't right at all. "Holy shit," Rick suddenly whispered. His left hand flew out and alighted on Jerry stomach. Jerry squirmed at the awkward invasion of his space. "Rick! What the hell?!" Rick ignored the protest, pressing his hand against Jerry's middle until he felt something suddenly press back.

"You outdid yourself, Isolde. I hope you've found peace," Rick muttered, very softly.

"You're not making any sense, Rick!" Morty's whiny voice broke in again. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Your dad's pregnant."

Rick turned back around and swerved the ship hard to the left.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm having tons of fun with this. Comments (and ideas!) are very much appreciated!**

 **-Pangur Ban**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"I, um, I'm not sure I'm understanding you," Jerry said after a long, painfully awkward silence.

"There aren't a- _uhrp-_ whole lot more ways to say it, Jerry, but sure, let me try a couple," Rick said with a dismissive wave from the driver's seat. "Let's see, we got, oh here's a good one, you're 'with child.' You're 'knocked up.' Uhhh, you 'got a bun in the oven,' that one's classic…"

"I know what 'pregnant' means!" Jerry yelled. "And I also happen know it's not a thing that men do!"

"It's not a thing that men from _Earth dimension C-137_ do, Jerry. Jeez, could you try broadening your tiny mind for once in your life? For godssakes, can't you feel the damn thing moving in you?"

Jerry glanced down at his slightly-larger-than-normal stomach, trying to remember if it looked like that this morning. He put his hand there, and Morty, who had already unbuckled and found his way to the back seat, reached out to feel as well. After a few seconds, they both recoiled in terror.

"Holy crap!" Morty yelled, jolting backwards and slamming into the opposite window. Jerry gasped at the same moment, pressing into the back of the seat as he tried fruitlessly to get away from his own body.

"See? What'd- _uhrp_ -I tell you?"

"S-something kicked! _Inside me!"_

"Yeah, they'll do that," Rick responded as if Jerry had just commented on a bird's tendency to fly.

"What _is_ it?" Jerry asked, both hands now on the unnatural swell of his stomach.

"You're kidding, right?" Rick said over his shoulder. He swerved to avoid a space bug, sending poor Morty flying against the window again. "Did you not listen to a thing I said just now?"

"I don't get it either R-Rick," Morty said, rubbing the new bruise on his head, inches from the one he'd received ten seconds earlier. "H-how can dad be p- _pregnant?_ "

Rick sighed and flipped a switch on the control panel, transitioning the ship into autopilot mode. He slowly got out his flask and took a big, long gulp from it, then tossed the empty container onto the pile of beer cans and broken bottles between the seat and the door. He stared at the pile for several seconds, as if searching for any trace of remaining alcohol, before snapping out of it and turning around to face his son-in-law and grandson.

"Pay attention, I- _uhrp-_ don't wanna have to explain this more than, like…at all. It's a _baby_ , Jerry. An alien baby—Isolde's baby. R-remember when I said that Laurokians can steal your organs? Well, they can also donate their own organs through the same kind of contact—"bizarre alien biology" is my catchall term for crazy shit like this. I-Isolde was dying, and she knew her baby was gonna die with her, so she implanted her own uterus into your body, baby and all. And she did a damned good job with it, from the look of things."

"'From the look of things?'" Jerry questioned. He flinched at another solid kick from within and fought a sudden urge to throw up.

"Yeah. For one thing, you're not coughing up blood, so I call that a win. Most Lauro- _uhrp-_ kians don't have the finesse required for this kind of, uh, 'procedure.' You're lucky Isolde didn't just sh-shove it all in there and hope your body would simply adapt. Shit's dangerous."

"I'm gonna be sick," Jerry declared.

Rick rolled his eyes, grabbed a balled-up grocery bag from a glove compartment, and tossed it to Jerry, who had just enough time to open it before filling it with the previous contents of his stomach. Morty cringed with disgust, but managed to give Jerry a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Um, that wasn't blood, was it?" Rick asked, a slight hint of concern making its way into his voice.

Jerry was hurling again, so Morty took it upon himself to answer on his behalf. "No, not blood. Definitely not blood," he reported, his face even paler than normal.

"Good, that's-that's good, Morty. Don't you worry about your dad, Morty, it's a perfectly normal reaction to the shock. And, uh, the pregnancy, now that I think about it…"

"Nothing about this is normal, R-Rick!" Morty shrieked back, cracking at least three syllables. "I mean what do we—h-how does he—shouldn't we be going to a h-hospital or something right now?"

"Just calm down, Morty, jeez, it's not like _you're_ the one having an alien baby. No, we don't need to go to the hospital because the baby isn't big enough to survive an extraction, and we're _not_ aborting it."

Morty tilted his head in confusion and no small amount of frustration. "Why the hell not?! Since when do you g-give a shit about alien babies? Th-that _thing_ could be killing my dad right now!"

Jerry raised a pointer finger and opened his mouth as if to add his own view on the subject, but seemed to change his mind and decide to vomit again instead.

"Doesn't matter, Morty, every alien hospital worth going to is filling with Gromflomites and Parckellites as we speak. They know by now that the kid's missing, so they're gonna be wary of any pregnancy, _especially_ a freakish one involving a human male. Now I-I didn't wanna have to wo- _uhr-_ rry you with all that extra shit, but you-you forced me to, Morty."

"So they're already looking for the baby. To kill him," Jerry finally got a word in.

"Right-o, preggo. Isolde is—was—the poster child for the entire resistance movement on Laurok. You know, like that mockingbird girl, what's-her-face Evergreen. Except that Isolde actually got shit done. H-her baby is the secret weapon of the resistance, except that it's not a secret because the Parckellite government knows about it."

"How is a baby a secret weapon?" Jerry asked. He wasn't focused on Rick or throwing up anymore. He was looking down at his midsection, arms wrapped tightly, _protectively,_ Rick noticed, around it.

"That's…that's not important right now," Rick said, still fixated on the way Jerry was staring at the baby bump, not tenderly, but determinedly, as if his new goal in life was the protection of this alien life-form. ( _"Idiots. First Morty and his cosmic queef, and now this. Always breaking the goddamned DGA rule."_ ) "Look," Rick began again, refocusing. "I don't have the energy to explain it, and neither of you has the capacity to understand, trust me on that. Besides, there's been e- _eh-_ ntirely too much dialogue-driven exposition as it is."

"Huh?"

"It's called a 'lampshade,' Morty, look it up. You should have plenty of time to do that during the commercial break."

"Wha-?"

* * *

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* * *

Everyone was quiet as Rick landed the ship in the driveway at the house. Morty was in a daze, still trying to wrap his head around the wonders of bizarre alien biology. Jerry was surprisingly, almost _infuriatingly_ calm, still wearing that same determined expression as he kept one protective hand over the growing swell in his middle. Rick needed a drink.

The trio entered the house as if it were any other day of the week and sat down at the dinner table, where Summer was already sitting and texting away.

" _Mom!_ Grandpa and them are back," she called out, never looking up from her phone.

"Well, it's about time," Beth's snippy voice rang from the kitchen. "I spend the whole day in surgery then come home to make a wholesome meal for my family, the least you could do is show a little gratitude by showing up on time for dinner!"

" _I've_ been here, like, the whole time, but whatever," Summer said in her most bored tone of voice.

"Sorry we're late, sweetie, we ran into a little bit of trouble off-planet," Rick called back.

"Oh, _dad…_ It's fine, I just finished with the oven anyway," Beth said, appearing in the doorway to the dining room with a dish of meatloaf in her hands. She always had trouble staying mad when Rick called her "sweetie," something that Rick had a habit of using to his advantage.

"Mmm, meatloaf! Smells delicious!" Rick said, milking it for all it was worth. Beth blushed slightly as she cut up and dished out the food.

"So did you guys have a nice time?" Beth asked once everyone's plates were filled. Rick had dug in immediately, but neither Jerry nor Morty could do much more than poke at their food. "Jerry? Morty? Did you have fun with Rick today?"

"Uh, yeah, l-lots of fun," Morty said, stabbing at a string bean.

"Yep, that's pretty much it, lots of fun," Jerry echoed far too quickly to be convincing. Beth narrowed her eyes.

"Oookay, so, clearly something completely insane happened that you guys don't feel like telling me. Well?"

"D-Dad's pregnant," Morty blurted out.

"Way to play it cool, Morty," Rick said through a large bite of meatloaf. He stood up to take his empty plate into the kitchen, washing it as he listened to the shitstorm start. He exited the kitchen through the opposite door and found his way through the hallway into the garage. Nothing had been touched since he left, save the Meeseeks box, which he knew Summer had been using in secret to maintain a steady level of acceptable popularity in school. He opened the door to the mini fridge, pushed a few biology experiments to the side, and pulled out a couple of beers. Sighing, he snapped open both lids and sat down at his work station. The interstellar radio was already on and crackling. Rick took a large gulp from the first beer and pressed the talk button.

"Stan. It's me. Can you hear me?"

Just crackling from the other end.

"I know you're there, Stan. You…You don't have to talk if you don't want to. I just…I wanted to say I'm sorry about Izzy."

 _"…That's not her real name. Show a little respect."_

"You know it's not safe." Rick paused. "…Thanks for answering, buddy."

 _"…It's kind of funny. I finally looked up the names you gave us. It's a joke, right? You're making some kind of joke?"_

"It wasn't like that, Stan, I never meant to-"

 _"YOU told us the first rule. I tried not to break it. God, I tried. But it's clear you knew from the beginning what would happen."_

"I never meant for any of this to happen. But I'm sorry. You would have been with her if you hadn't been meeting with me."

 _"I would have died if I had been with her. I'm sure you'll forgive me for not saying 'thank you' just yet...How do you do it, my friend? How do you keep fighting when everything you were fighting for gets torn from you in one fell swoop?"_

"…That's what the first rule is for. That's how I manage."

 _"Fuck you and fuck your rule."_

"Just listen to me for a second. Not everything was lost."

 _"She's dead. They're both dead."_

"No, Stan. He's alive. I can't tell you where just yet, but trust me, he's in good hands."

There was a long silence from the other end, punctuated by a low sobbing sound.

 _"…Th-the name 'Tristan' means 'sorrowful,' you know. As if you needed more irony in your life…Thank you. Thank you for telling me. What's the new plan?"_

"Still working on that, buddy; there have been some complications. You just take some time for yourself. I'll get back to you when I figure out what the hell I'm doing."

 _"You never know what the hell you're doing."_

"Wubba lubba dub dub."

Rick released the talk button and stared at nothing for a full minute. He finally reached for his beer and chugged the rest of it, half of it ending up on his chin and neck. He grabbed the other beer, opened the garage door, and wandered into the yard. It was a beautiful sunset. Isolde would have liked it.

"Rest in peace, Izzy," he said, pouring out the beer on the front lawn. He turned back to the house, listening. The shitstorm was over. Time to get back to work.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading, ya'll, and thanks for the comments so far!**

 **-PangurBan**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Rick went back in through the garage, grabbing a beer as he went. He strolled on into the dining room with an "Okay, are we all on the same page n-"

"It's bigger, R-Rick!" Morty's squeaky voice immediately struck Rick's sensitive ears. Both Beth and Summer were staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Jerry's stomach. Clearly they hadn't had time to digest the insane new situation they had been thrown into.

"It's organic, Morty, it'll do that," Rick said. "Beth, Summer, are we on the same page now?"

"What the hell do _you_ think, Dad?! You bring my husband out with you on one of your insane adventures and you bring him back _pregnant?_ This is just a whole new level of negligence, even for you!" Beth said, gesturing at Jerry, who was now standing with one arm still around his waist, as if he feared a physical attack at any moment.

"Clearly my son-in-law and grandson completely forgot to mention how _none of this shit is my fault._ In the immortal words of Mr. Pink, 'I didn't cre _-eh-_ ate this situation, I'm dealing with it.'" Rick responded.

"Who the _hell_ is Mr. Pink?"

"Not important right now, sweetie. Look, if you-if you guys wanna take some more time to freak out, go right ahead. Just let me know when you're done so we can start figuring this shit out. I-I can't take care of bu- _uh-_ isness with you guys panicking all the time."

"I'm not panicking," Jerry offered.

" _Inspiring,_ Jerry. Who's gonna play you in the movie?" Rick looked around at the rest of them. "A- _ah-_ re we all on the same page or not?"

Beth crossed her arms and nodded.

"Summer?"

"Yeah, whatever, Grandpa."

"Morty?"

"Y-yeah, okay, fine, I guess, but-but Rick, I swear it's bigger than before!" Morty shrilled, pointing at his father.

"Jesus Christ, Morty, would you quit panicking for-for ten seconds?!" Rick's eyes finally fell back on Jerry. "Oh, shit. It's bigger." What had looked like a two or three-month bump when they first left Laurok was clearly a-

"Beth, you-you've been pregnant before, how many months does that look like?" Rick said, pointing at the object of their conversation.

"That's pretty much impossible to tell, Dad. That's how I looked when I was full-term with Summer, but I'm a lot smaller than Jerry. He has more…cushioning," Beth said, looking at her husband apologetically. Jerry just shrugged.

Rick looked at Jerry suspiciously. "You've been t- _ah-_ aking all this a little _too_ well, Jerry. Aren't you at least a little bit freaked out?"

"J-jeez, Rick," Morty said, eyes still wide with unabating anxiety. "It's not like you get to control who panics and who doesn't!"

"Isolde chose me to take care of her son. As far as I'm concerned, I have a job to do," Jerry said. "After all, it's for the fate of the galaxy, isn't it?" he continued, looking hopefully at Rick. Rick rolled his eyes again. ( _"Goddammit, Jerry, you idiot. You don't have a damn clue."_ )

"Yeah, 'fate of the galaxy.' Let's call it that for the time being. A- _ah-_ nyway, it looks like the baby's growing at a super accelerated rate, probably a-a defensive response to the trauma of its transplant. Hell if I know. That's alien biology for ya. Also, you should probably sit down, Jerry," Rick added just before Jerry fainted dead away. Morty managed to half-catch his dad, at least enough to keep his head from slamming into the dining room floor.

"I-I _told_ you that thing could be killing him!" Morty yelled while trying to lift the bulk of Jerry's body off of himself.

"About 75 percent right this time, Morty," Rick said, kneeling down and giving Jerry a solid smack across the face. Jerry's eyes shot open.

"Ow! What the hell, Rick?!"

"You passed out, you idiot. You're dehydrated, and probably malnourished too. Get up, we need to get you to the couch."

With Rick's help, Jerry managed to stand up and stumble his way into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch.

"Morty, Summer, get some water and energy bars. H- _uh_ -rry before he faints again!" Rick's grandchildren scrambled for the kitchen as Beth came and sat down next to her husband.

"Care to explain, Dad?" she said with a disapproving glare.

"Jesus, Beth, you guys act like I'm the expert here. I mean, yeah, you all look like morons compared to me, but th-this is just common sense!" Rick said, gesturing to the anemic Jerry.

"The baby's growing too fast for my body to take care of both of us," Jerry said, matter-of-factly. Rick stared at him, more surprised than impressed. "That's…that's pretty much exactly it," Rick agreed. "It's sucking up all your vital nutrients."

Morty and Summer quickly reappeared, Morty with a crate half-full of water bottles and Summer with a box of peanut butter and chocolate protein bars. Rick grabbed a water bottle and snapped the cap off, offering it to Jerry, who sat up and chugged it. "Not too fast," Rick said, passing him a protein bar, which he avidly tore into.

"Tell us- _mm-_ tell us more about Laurok's resistance movement," Jerry demanded between bites of pure protein and carbohydrates.

"It's a long, c- _uh-_ omplicated story that would take hours for you guys to even get a grasp of. Besides, this shit doesn't involve Earth in any way."

"I beg to differ!" Jerry said, pointing fervently down at his belly.

"Okay, okay, so maybe Earth is _marginally_ involved by a- _ah-_ ssociation. For now, neither the Parckellites nor the Laurokians know what or where Earth is, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"I'm with Jerry on this one," Beth said, now holding her husband's free hand.

"Aww, _Beth_ ," Jerry said, lovingly.

"Just shut up and eat your protein bars, Jerry. Come on Dad, fill us in."

Rick sighed dramatically. "Fine. Just don't blame me when you end up even more confused than before. All right, so the place we went to was called Laurok, which is the only moon orbiting the planet Parckel. You with me so far?"

Morty and Summer both nodded enthusiastically. Jerry offered a thumbs-up and started on his next protein bar.

"Good. Now, the people of Parckel are a completely different race and culture than the people of their moon. Th-they think they own Laurok just because it orbits them and has a smaller, poorer population. The two have been- _uhrp-_ warring on and off for decades, basically ever since Parckel discovered space travel, but Parckel has always had the advantage with their superior technology and bigger military. Laurok's got a ton of natural resources, so that's the main reason Parckel's currently occupying them. Th-think of Laurok like revolution-era America, you know, with all that tea-tax and shit, except that Laurokians are more like the Native Americans, and…never mind, that's a bad analogy. Um… It's more like first century Judea, where the Parckellites are the Romans, and the Laurokians are the Jews. Better yet, think of the Laurokians as the Jews and the Parckellites as literally anyone that's ever bullied Jews. Am-am I making sense here?"

"Laurokians equals Jews and Parckellites equals dickbags. Got it," Jerry said, nodding.

"You-You're oversimplifying a bit there, but you got the gist of it. So anyway, not surprisingly, the Laurokians aren't exactly happy with getting stepped on by the Parckellites. Sure, a lot of them just lie down and take it, and hell, I don't blame them. But some are fighting back."

"Isolde," Jerry said, importantly.

" _Very good_ , Jerry," Rick said, patronizingly. "Isolde was one of the leaders of the Laurokian resistance."

"But what about the baby? You said he was their 'secret weapon.'"

"Would you quit interrupting? You're turning pale again, drink some more water," Rick said. Jerry obeyed, snapping the cap off another bottle.

"Now the baby's important because-"

"Who cares how important the baby is to a bunch of aliens who don't even know Earth exists?" Beth interrupted. "Am I literally the only one here who's wondering how in the hell you're planning on getting that thing _out_ of him? Why isn't he at that alien hospital we took him to last time he got involved in your shit?!"

"Calm down, sweetie, everything's gonna be okay," Rick said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. Beth leaned into the contact, her anger seeming to disappear immediately. Rick couldn't help the stab of guilt and self-loathing that pierced through him. Of all his family members, Beth was the easiest to manipulate, and he took advantage of that far too often. One of these days she would figure that out, and it would be too late to ask for forgiveness.

"I already explained that to Jerry and Morty. The Parckellites will know by now that the baby was transferred to someone else, and the Galactic Federation will have sent soldiers to every alien hospital."

"What about an Earth hospital?"

"We-we _could_ do that, I suppose," Rick said, scratching his head. "Jeez, I wish I'd had more time to consider our options." His eyes fell upon Jerry's belly again. ( _"Shit, is it already even bigger?!"_ ) "It's just…Earth hospitals are impossible to d- _eh-_ eal with. Ignorance of alien biology aside, the E.R. is always understaffed, there are never enough rooms or beds, and they're always spending more time killing trees than saving humans."

"Does it look like we have another choice?" Beth countered.

"No…No, you're right. We should take him in. M- _oh-_ orty, go to the garage and get my portal gun, we might need it. And keep eating those protein bars, Jerry."

Morty eagerly scurried off to the garage while Jerry tore into another bar. Ten seconds later, they heard two laser blasts and a shriek of pain.

" _Shit._ Beth, stay with Jerry!" Rick yelled behind him as he sprinted to the garage, Summer close behind him. He threw open the door to find Morty at the far side of the room on the floor, his face scrunched up in pain and his right hand over his bleeding left bicep. It was clear that he had been reaching for the portal gun, which was in a thousand pieces in front of him. A blue humanoid, a _Laurokian_ , in a grey uniform stood in the opposite corner, his laser handgun still pointed at Morty.

"You come any closer I swear I'll shoot him in the face!" the alien threatened.

Rick calmly pulled up the right sleeve of his lab coat, revealing an oddly shaped watch.

"What are you doing? Stop that!" the alien shrieked. "I'll do it! I'll shoot your tiny human friend in the face!"

"Calm down, buddy, I'm just checking the time," Rick said, pushing a button on the watch. For the second time ever, the blast shields he had installed in the house last year activated, trapping the Laurokian inside with them. The alien looked left and right in a sudden panic, and Rick took the opportunity to lunge toward him and grab his legs, pulling him to the ground. The gun went off, the laser beam harmlessly striking the ceiling. Rick began to wrestle with the Laurokian for control of the gun.

"Summer, _ngh,_ get Morty!" Rick yelled.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Summer cried, running to her little brother.

"S-Summer…" Morty gasped, his right hand still plastered to his left arm where blood was seeping out between his fingers.

"Come on, Morty, we have to get out of here!" Summer said, trying to pull him up by his waist.

"Ow! Summer, you're hurting me," Morty whimpered. His feet managed to find the ground, and the two of them rushed out of the garage just as the sound of two more laser blasts met their ears. Seconds later they made it to the living room, where Morty collapsed onto the carpet, sick and pale from blood loss.

"Oh my god, _Morty!_ " Beth cried. "Summer, get some dishtowels, hurry!"

"Way ahead of you," Summer called from the kitchen.

"What the hell is going on in the garage?" Jerry asked. Summer returned with a pile of dishtowels and tossed one of them to Beth, who wrapped it tightly around Morty's injured arm.

"Th-there was- _ugh!-_ an alien! Rick's still in there, Mom!"

"Not anymore." Rick limped into the room, his left hand on his thigh, his right holding the Laurokian's laser gun.

"Dad, you're bleeding!"

"I'm all right, Beth, it's just a graze. Is Morty okay?"

Morty shook his head, tears falling from his bright eyes. "It h- _hurts,_ Rick."

"I don't doubt it, buddy. Lemme see," Rick said. He lifted the bloodied dishcloth for a second and winced. "Ouch. Yeah, that looks pretty painful, Morty. Don't worry, it's a through-and-through, nothing vital hit. You'll live."

"W-why was that Laurokian here in the first place?" Morty sobbed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I-I thought they were the g-good guys!"

"Wait, a _Laurokian_ shot Morty?" Jerry asked, incredulous. Everyone looked at Rick, demanding an answer.

"What, you think _I_ invited him here? And I never said Laurokians were the 'good guys.'" Rick grabbed one of the extra dishtowels and pressed it hard against his bleeding thigh, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. "Honestly, _ungh,_ I have no idea how they found us, but I sure as hell know what they want."

A loud hammering sound echoed through the house. "That'll be the rest of them," Rick muttered. He snatched the remote control off the coffee table and pushed a button. The television came on, displaying six surveillance videos at once, each showing a different angle of the outside of the house. Laurokians armed with laser guns filled every shot.

"It looks like we're safe for the time being, at least u- _uh-_ ntil they find a way to break through the blast shields."

"Can't we just give them what they want?" Jerry suggested. "I mean, how hard would it be for one of them to just take the baby back?"

"Easier than scratching an itch, Jerry. Only problem is it would definitely kill you. Having organs torn out of you tends to result in massive internal bleeding. Transferring her uterus into your body probably killed Isolde faster than the gunshot wound."

"Oh. Well, crap."

"So then, what do you suggest we do?" Beth asked.

"We don't really have a choice at this point. We're too outnumbered to counterattack; i-it would be a slaughter, especially with me and Morty already injured. My portal gun's in a million pieces in the garage, so that's out too. It looks like we're gonna have to try to wait it out, see if the Laurokians try to negotiate or something."

"Shit. _Shit,"_ Jerry said.

"I feel ya, Jerry. Shit sucks."

"No, not that, I think I…" Jerry trailed off, staring down between his legs.

"Oh, god, tell me it's not what I think it is," Rick groaned, limping over to the couch. His worst fears were confirmed when he saw the dark stain spreading beneath his son-in-law. "Shit. _Shit,_ " he said, echoing Jerry's initial statement.

"What wrong, Dad?" Beth asked.

"Your idiot's water just broke."

"Ohmygodthat'ssodisgustingI'mgoingtopuke," Summer monotoned.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh noes! What are they going to do now? Comments are super appreciated, ya'll!**

 **-PangurBan**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _One year earlier..._

Rick stood outside the bar on Laurok with his eyes glued to his watch. He intended to be somewhat on time to this meeting he'd arranged, but hoped to be the last to show up. _"Give them a chance to get acquainted without me killing the mood,"_ Rick had decided. His plan backfired spectacularly when he heard a laser blast from inside. _"Oh, come on, seriously?!"_

With a growl of frustration, he rushed into the bar and pushed his way through the crowd (" _Damn, why is it always so crowded in here?"_ ) into the employees-only zone, where the secret door was located. He began tapping out the coded rhythm (the bass line of "Another One Bites the Dust"), but the slab of wall swung open before he could finish the phrase.

"Aw, come on, b- _uh-_ uddy, you're killing my groove!" Rick complained.

"Your Laurokian bitch _shot_ me!" came the angry reply from the orange-skinned alien standing before him. The Parckellite was wearing a dark blue uniform that had holes cut out at the shoulders to accommodate a small pair of vestigial wings. Aside from the wings and his feathered ears, he very much resembled a human (albeit an orange one).

"What, did you try to steal her eye-holes?" Rick joked, stepping into the room. The Parckellite slammed the wall-door shut and held out his right hand in front of Rick's face, showing him the bloody hole in his palm.

" _Daaaamn_ , bitch!" Rick said, smiling at the blue alien wearing a white dress on the opposite side of the room. The Laurokian woman had her lower pair of arms crossed, but her upper pair held a laser gun with both hands.

"He insulted my ears, so I decided to teach him a lesson about respect," the woman said, coolly.

"I was _trying_ to make conversation!" the Parckellite insisted. "How was I supposed to know she'd take offense to me calling her 'fish-eared?'"

"Jeez, man, you're lucky she didn't rub your nose in it," Rick said, shaking his head.

"Can we get on with this?" the Laurokian said, pressing the laser gun into its holster at her side.

"All right, all right. First things- _uhrp-_ first: introductions. We're gonna be using code names for the remainder of this shindig, however long it lasts—Less than a year if everything works out like it should and you guys don't get your asses killed. My lady," he said, nodding at the Laurokian, "Allow me to introduce you to Tristan of the One Hand."

"Fuck off," Tristan said, tearing a piece of cloth from the nearest window curtain and wrapping his injured hand with it.

"And Tristan, this gorgeous piece of ass is Isolde."

"Much obliged," Isolde said, with a knowing smirk aimed at Rick.

"'I-sol-de?' Where the hell did you come up with these shitty names?" Tristan asked.

"Doesn't matter, Stan. Trust me, the way things are going so far, they fit pretty damn well. Okay, on to business. I brought you guys here because I have a plan, and it can't work without full commitment from both of you…"

* * *

 _Now..._

"All right, Morty, this is going to sting a little bit," Beth said, applying disinfectant to a cotton ball. Morty bit his lip and nodded, but couldn't hold back a sharp yelp when Beth began cleaning his wound. Summer sat nearby, holding the first aid kit and trying her best to feign boredom.

"Well, let's call the couch ruined," Rick said. "Good riddance, it's about time we get it replaced. Damn thing has no support."

"Who cares about the couch," Beth said, unpackaging a curved suture needle. "What are we going to do about my husband, who, in case you forgot, is currently _in labor with an alien baby?!_ "

"Try to stay calm, sweetie. The bl- _ah-_ ast shields will hold at least for a little while, and Jerry's contractions haven't even started yet. We have some time to figure this out." Rick picked up Jerry's iPad and started tapping the screen.

"Uh, define 'contractions,'" Jerry called from his place on the ruined couch.

"Are you kidding me?!" Beth yelled, looking up from her patient. " _Two kids_ , Jerry! You were there both times!"

"It's gonna feel like, uh, like really bad gas. Or like an awful backache, except that it comes and goes," Rick said, eyes glued to the iPad. "You been feeling any pain?"

Jerry nodded, nervously. "It feels like a leg cramp, except in my stomach."

"How many times has it happened?" Beth asked, incredulous.

"I don't know, three— _four_ times," Jerry answered, suddenly wincing. "…Oh, god, this one's way worse than the others were."

"Summer, you're on clock duty. Start the timer when his contraction ends," Rick instructed.

"Whatever," Summer said, getting her phone out and tapping the clock app.

"H-how long is this supposed to last?" Jerry said through his teeth.

"Only for about a minute," Beth said. "Breathe with the pain, don't try to fight it. You too, Morty," she added. Morty nodded, but still gasped sharply when Beth pressed the suture needle to his wound. "There we go, honey, you're being very brave."

"Thanks, Beth," Jerry said, oblivious. He visibly relaxed seconds later, and Summer took that as her cue to start the timer. Beth took another several minutes to finish stitching up Morty's arm and begin wrapping it with gauze, at which point Jerry started grimacing again.

"Time?" Rick asked, turning to Summer.

"Four and a half minutes."

"Shit," Rick said, depositing the iPad on the coffee table. "Okay, Jerry, pants off." He rolled his eyes at the sudden, incoherent objections from literally every person in the room. "What the hell is everyone's problem? His contractions are less than five minutes apart. I need to figure out the situation down there so we can decide if Beth needs to operate or not."

" _Me?_ Operate?! _"_ Beth protested, "Are you out of your mind?"

"How hard can it be, sweetie, you're a surgeon, aren't you?"

"A _horse_ surgeon," Jerry emphasized as he remained curled in on himself with pain.

"Oh, sure, Dad, let me just scrub up, get my instruments out, and call the anesthetist. Oh, wait, I can't do that because _NONE OF THOSE THINGS ARE HERE!"_ Beth screeched at her father.

"All the more reason to scope out the situation. Summer, go get some sheets," Rick ordered.

"What am I, the family errand runner?" Summer grumbled.

"No, you're just the only one not shot, in labor, or administering first aid. Would you just get some damn sheets, now?!"

"Jeez, chill out, Grandpa," Summer said, heading for the linen closet.

"All right, Jerry, we're gonna need to move you to the dining room table."

"What's wrong with the couch?" Jerry said, still recovering from his most recent contraction.

"I need you e- _eh-_ levated so I can see better. M-my back isn't what it used to be, and I can't be kneeling in front of you with my leg all jacked up like this. Besides, you-you're on the kitchen table in the opening credits, and damned if I'm going to break from canon at this point."

* * *

 _Eleven months earlier..._

Rick sighed and took a long sip from his flask. Tristan and Isolde stood on opposite sides of the small, hidden room that had become their permanent meeting place, refusing to look at each other.

"So," Rick began, "Um…did you guys…?"

"What? 'Did we fuck?'" Tristan said, never one to skirt around sensitive issues.

"Yes...that. Well?"

"Yes, we did," Isolde answered.

"…And?"

"And I'm currently bleeding. What did you expect, Ricardo? An invitation to the baby shower?"

"I wasn't- _uhrp-_ expecting anything. I was _hoping_ for something. Truth be told, I would have been pretty impressed if you'd managed on your first try," Rick admitted.

"Isolde thinks it didn't work because she didn't have an orgasm," Tristan complained, gesturing toward the alien woman, but still refusing to look at her. " _That's_ how primitive and backward the Laurokians are. They think some kind of infant savior is gonna come rescue them from the big bad Parckellites and the female orgasm is what makes babies. I can't make this shit up."

Isolde rolled her eyes and offered Tristan the middle of three fingers.

"Well how many times did you guys actually do it?" Rick pressed.

"Once a day for…what, a week?" Tristan said, this time looking at Isolde for confirmation. She nodded. "Six days."

"And Izzy didn't have a single orgasm?"

Isolde shook her head, both pairs of arms crossed over her chest.

"Jesus, Stan, d-did you even _try_ to please her?"

"What are you, our relationship counselor?" Tristan growled. "Does it fucking look like either of us are in it for the pleasure? It's not working, plain and simple. Our races aren't compatible."

Rick's hands tightened into fists at his sides, but he remained outwardly calm. "…All right," he said, "glad we got that cleared up for science. You guys enjoy the rest of your short, war-torn lives." He headed for the door.

" _Wait!_ " the two aliens cried in unison.

Rick smirked ( _"Thought so."_ ). He put on a straight face before turning around. "Yeah?"

"Maybe we…" Tristan began, stepping a bit closer to Isolde. "…Maybe we can keep trying for a little while. Wh-what do you think, Isolde?" His eyes met hers, and he suddenly realized that this was the first time he had ever actually gotten a good look at her face. ( _"Six fucking times and I never noticed how green her eyes are…"_ )

Isolde issued a dramatic sigh. "I guess I can handle another week or two of terrible sex if it's for the fate of the galaxy. It's clear that Tristan needs the practice anyway."

"Well, fuck you, bitch," Tristan said, defensively.

Isolde replied without missing a beat, "That's right, Tristan, 'fuck me.' Now you're getting the idea."

* * *

 _Now..._

"O- _oh-_ kay," Rick said, spreading the folded sheet over Jerry's lower half. "Time for you to take those pants off." Jerry was lying prostrate on the kitchen table, an old comforter beneath him and a small pillow under his head for support.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with-"

" _Now_ ," Rick demanded. Jerry frowned and started fumbling with his pants, finally sliding them off with his underwear beneath the sheet and tossing them to the side.

"Now, uh…bend and spread." ( _"God, that sounds disgusting."_ ) Rick lifted the sheet and leaned forward a bit. "Let's see what we've got here— _Fuck!_ " he suddenly yelled.

"What?! What is it?!" Jerry yelped back, closing his knees and tucking his legs in.

"Not you, you idiot," Rick said, wincing, "I knocked my - _ungh-_ I knocked my goddamned leg against the table edge. _Shit_ that hurt…"

"You really should let me look at that," Beth said, entering the room with another pile of old sheets and cloths.

"In a minute, sweetie. I need to see what we're dealing with first…Goddammit, Jerry, open your legs," Rick ordered, one hand still clamped on his injured thigh. Jerry swallowed and complied, finding a place on the ceiling to stare at while Rick lifted the sheet again. "Well, I'll be damned," Rick said, apparently impressed.

"What is it?" Beth asked, not exactly sure if she wanted to know.

"Isolde's craftsmanship, that's what. The woman was an _artist_. Looks like we won't be needing your surgical expertise after all, Beth," Rick said from halfway under the sheet.

"Are—Are you telling me my husband has a _vagina?_ " Beth asked, trying her best not to shriek at her father, but not entirely succeeding.

"The medical term used in most alien hospitals is ' _mangina_ ,' but yeah, that's the idea. Did you catch all that, Jerry?" Rick withdrew from under the sheet to find Jerry unconscious again, his heading lolling to the side and a string of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Shit. You had to make this difficult, didn't you?" Rick muttered. He looked back at his daughter. "Get whatever medical supplies you have lying around, anything and everything you can find. He's gonna need a blood transfusion."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry for the shorter/delayed chapter! I hope ya'll are enjoying! Your comments are much appreciated! :)**

 **-PangurBan**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry it's been forever! I have good news: This story has a planned ending and is nearly complete! Thank you soooooo much for the kind reviews (I wish I could personally thank you anonymous reviewers! You guys are great!)**

 **Also, trigger warning for the first section here: Miscarriage**

* * *

Chapter 5

 _Seven months earlier..._

"Guess who brought the champagne!" Rick said, closing the wall-door behind him. "And don't worry, Izzy, I grabbed a bottle of that sparkling grape juice too."

"In less than 22 hours we're going to tell the whole population of Laurok, and Parckel by extension, that I'm pregnant with a savior. Shouldn't a little alcohol be the _least_ of our worries?" Isolde asked, two hands holding her small belly and the other two rubbing her lower back.

"Never hurts to be careful," Tristan said with an approving nod to Rick. "Gotta take care of my Parckellite genes!"

Rick pulled some smudged wine glasses from the nearby cupboard and dusted the insides out with another piece of the window curtain, which had become their go-to source of semi-clean cloth. He filled two of the glasses with champagne and a third with white grape juice.

"The f- _ah-_ ate of the galaxy," Rick said, sardonically raising his glass. His companions stood and followed suit.

"The fate of the galaxy!"

 _Shatter._

The grape juice glass had fallen to the floor.

"Izzy, you all right?" Tristan asked. The Laurokian's four hands were on her stomach, clutching.

"No, not all right. It hurts. It's…It's not supposed to hurt like this. It feels like…"

"Shit, she's bleeding, Rick!"

"I'll-I'll get a doctor," Rick said, running for the door.

" _Stop!_ " Isolde's voice commanded, causing Rick to freeze in his tracks. "N-No one can know. We can't risk _anyone_ seeing it…not even a doctor…" Her legs buckled, but Tristan's arms were already around her, gently lowering her to the floor.

"Just keeping looking at me, Izzy, you're gonna be okay. You hear me? You're gonna be fine," Tristan said, trying not to look at the puddle of blood collecting on the floor.

"W-we'll try again…won't we? Y-you still owe me an orgasm…" Isolde murmured into Tristan's shoulder as her body continued to hemorrhage against her will.

"Anything you want, Izzy." Tristan looked up at Rick, tears in his eyes. Rick turned away and got out his flask, more impatient than usual to feel that sweet relief.

" _Like I give a shit,"_ he told himself. " _A waste of four months. That's all this is. Just one more fucking starfish that didn't make it."_

* * *

 _Now…_

Waking up was unpleasant to say the least. One moment he's seeing the perfectly clear image of a blue alien woman dying in his arms, next there's pounding in his ears and an indescribable pain in his back and stomach.

"Do you think he can hear us right now? His eyes are half open. Dad? Dad? _Helloooo!_ "

"Summer, for the lo-o _h_ -ve of god, _please_ shut the fuck up," Rick said, now waving his hand in front of Jerry's face.

Jerry squinted his eyes shut and feebly swatted Rick's hand away.

"Yeah, it looks like he's awake now. Jerry- _goddamnit Jerry_ -stop waving your arms around, you're gonna rip out your IV," Rick growled.

"My _wha-_?" Jerry mumbled, eyes opening and finally adjusting to the light.

"Jerry, it's us," Beth said, taking Jerry's left hand in both of hers. "You passed out again, and we had to give you a blood transfusion. How are you feeling?"

"Not, uh...not good," Jerry said. He sat up and looked left and right at his family crowded around him. "A blood transfusion?"

"Yeah, Dad," Summer said, showing off the red tube sprouting from her arm and connecting the two of them.

"Why did I need a- _AGH!_ " Jerry suddenly curled in on himself, his right arm wrapped tightly around his rounded midsection.

" _That's_ why, Jerry," Rick said, once again engrossed in Jerry's iPad. "Isolde's baby is sucking the life out of you, you know, like that vampire baby from _Breaking Bad._ "

"Breaking _Dawn_ ," Summer corrected. Beth gently removed the IV from Summer's arm and applied a band-aid.

"Isn't that the one with Patrick Swayze?"

"No grandpa, that's _Red_ Dawn."

"Wha- _uhrp-_ whatever, Summer," Rick said, still not looking up from the iPad, "The point is, Jerry's about to give birth to an alien baby, so we should probably get some more towels-"

A sudden explosion shook the foundations of the house and caused several windows to shatter.

"And just what in the hell was _that?_ " Beth said, glaring at her father. Rick just rolled his eyes and limped back to the living room to check the TV. The squad of Laurokians outside were focusing their efforts-and firepower-on the front side of the shielded house.

"Okay, bad news," Rick said, returning to the dining room. "They might be closer to breaking through than I thought. These, uh, these blast shields were kind of built with the intent of keeping things _in._ You know, parasite infestations, apocalyptic flu epidemics, the usual stuff. We're gonna need a contingency plan to protect Jerry if they find their way through before the baby's born. M- _uh_ -orty, Summer, follow me."

Rick led his grandkids back into the garage, where he turned a dial on the washing machine to reveal the secret wall with a set of assorted hi-tech guns. He handed medium-sized guns to each of them and took a tiny one for himself, which he stowed in the pocket of his lab coat.

"These are just for show, got it? Whatever you do, don't shoot the Laurokians. But, you know, try to lo-o _h-_ look like you're going to."

"Dad, I need you back in here!" Beth yelled from the dining room.

* * *

 _Six months earlier…_

The secret wall door moaned as it swung open for the second time that day.

"Hey, Rick."

"Hey, Stan."

Rick entered the dimly lit room, collapsed into the nearest wooden chair, and took a drink from his flask.

"Uh…I guess Izzy's running a bit late today," Tristan said, awkwardly.

"Mhm," Rick mumbled, distracted. He stared at the large brown stain on the floorboards in the center of the room. Tristan followed his sightline and visibly cringed.

"Do you think it might trigger her? Should we get a rug to cover it?" Tristan asked. "Or would she feel awkward if she knew we covered it up for her?"

"I dunno, you're the- _uhrp_ -one sleeping with her," Rick slurred. "Does she have PTSD?"

"I mean, I don't know, maybe? She...she cries sometimes during sex. She didn't do that before. To be honest, it's kind of getting weird between us. But not like _bad_ weird. I can't really explain it."

"And I don't really wanna hear about it. So how about you go find something to cover the floor while I enjoy the sound of you not talking," Rick said, putting his feet up on the nearby table.

The secret knock suddenly played at the door. "I got it," Rick sighed and stood. In a panic, Tristan stupidly pulled off the top layer of his uniform and spread it on the floor. Rick swung the door open and Isolde entered, wearing her usual white outfit. Tristan clumsily stood up, trying and failing to draw attention away from his jacket splayed out on the floor. Isolde stared for a moment, head tilted inquisitively.

"Oh, I see. You didn't want me to have to look at that. That's...sweet, but unnecessary," Isolde said, coldly.

"You okay, Izzy?" Tristan asked, keeping his distance.

"Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?" she snapped.

"Well for one thing, you're being a frigid bitch," Rick said, back in his seat and eyeing the bottom of his empty flask. "So what is it? Your period?"

Tristan cringed, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

"That's right, Rick. What other reason can a female have for being pissed off? You know, besides having to listen to males attribute my emotional state to the condition of my genitals."

"So, definitely your period, then?"

"God, Rick, why are you being such a dick right now?" Tristan said.

"You sound like my teenage granddaughter, which on a scale of one to annoying puts you at #YOLO. I don't give a-a fuck why or when a woman decides to get pissy. The fact of the matter is that, A) I'm a genius, and B) Izzy's upset because she's not pregnant. Jeez, how backwards do you think I am?"

Tristan looked back at Isolde, concerned. "Is that true?"

Isolde nodded. "Rick's a fucking pig, but he's right."

"When?"

Isolde crossed two pairs of arms. "Just this afternoon. Ruined another one of my dresses. Stupid."

Tristan moved closer the Laurokian woman and tentatively placed his hand on her wrist. To his relief, she didn't push him away. "I'm so sorry, Izzy," he murmured.

"It's just a period. It's fine. I'm fine." She blinked several times and looked away as she lifted one sleeve to wipe at the corner of her eye. "So what's our plan of action?"

* * *

 _Now…_

Rick, Morty, and Summer rushed back into the dining room to find Beth supporting Jerry as he bent forward, breathing in quick, short gasps.

"I think he's in transition," Beth said. "I was kind of afraid to look.

Rick snapped on five layers of surgical gloves from Beth's first aid kit and lifted the sheet over Jerry's legs.

"This is gonna suck for both of us, Jerry, so do your best to stay calm," Rick said, reaching beneath the sheet.

"What's gonna suck for- _OW, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING_?" Jerry shrieked at the surprise intrusion. Rick pulled his hand back and nonchalantly disposed of the used glove.

"Yep, looks like Beth is right. You're almost ready to push. At least, according to this article, you are," Rick said, pointing at the _WikiHow_ page pulled up on Jerry's iPad.

"The entire wealth of the internet at your disposal and you go with a _WikiHow_ article?!" Beth said, supporting Jerry through another contraction.

Rick shrugged. "Seem- _uhrp_ -seemed the least complicated to me. How you feeling, Jerry? Any weird, downward pressure?"

Jerry tilted his head in thought for a moment. "Wow, okay, it definitely feels like something's...moving...down… _Agh!_ " A surprised moan escaped his lips as his body began to bear down automatically.

"Was that a push? Are you pushing right now?"

"Either- _ngh_ -Either that or I'm pooping. H-holy _shit_ this is definitely the worst pain I've ever been in..." He collapsed back against Beth, panting.

"Yeah, I w- _uh-_ wouldn't be clocking that record just yet if I were you." Rick looked up to find Beth glaring at him and mouthing " _Shut UP!_ "

"What? You want me to sugar-coat it for him? The baby isn't even crowning yet, and I'm pretty sure shoving a baby's head out of his ass with no drugs is gonna make this part seem like a bee sting in comparison."

"What the hell, Dad?!" Beth said, fuming.

Rick just laughed, "Nah, I'm just fucking with you, Jerry. It's not an ass-baby. This is real life, not some shitty-ass fanfiction written by horny teenage girls. But you should probably know now that it _is_ gonna hurt like a son-of-a-bitch when that alien's head bursts out of your mangina."

"God, grandpa, you're such a dick!" Summer said, shaking her head.

"S-Summer's right, you know, I mean w-would-would it kill you to show a little empathy for once?"

"I dunno, Morty, seems to me that collecting other people's pain just means collecting more pain. It's- _uhrp_ -not exactly on the top of my list of things to try."

Jerry groaned again, pushing in earnest this time.

"That's good honey, you're doing a great job, _isn't he, Dad?_ " Beth said, shooting daggers at Rick. Rick sighed and ducked under the sheet again.

"I've got fantastic news for you, Jerry. You're not shitting."

"Can you see anything yet?" Jerry asked, panting with the end of the contraction.

"Nothing yet, but it could be any minute now. Or, you know, hours from now. Hell if I know, this _WikiHow_ article is really vague," Rick said, now staring at the iPad again.

Another explosion shook the house.

" _Shit._ They're almost through the blast shields."

"I need to push again," Jerry gasped out, spreading his legs and pressing his chin to his chest.

"That's good, Jerry, keep pushing. You're gonna need to get that baby out as soon as possible. Preferably before the Laurokians break in and rip it out themselves."

" _Fuck!"_ Jerry suddenly yelped in pain. "I think it's coming... _Fuck,_ it's coming, Rick!"

Rick quickly looked under the sheet again. "Yeah, there's definitely something...um...bulging."

"OhmygodIdidnotneedtohearthat," Summer said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **A/N: Aww, jeez, guys... Sorry it's been a while. I felt bad about it, so here's a little something to keep you reading (if anyone is still reading). Still working on the ending, one more chapter after this! Thanks everyone!**

* * *

A loud scream of agony echoed from the kitchen of the Smith residence.

"All right, head's out! Worst part is over, Jerry, just one or two more pushes, and you're done. I mean, unless something goes wrong or whatever."

Jerry panted for a few seconds before throwing his head down and putting everything he had into the next push.

"Huh...That, uh, that didn't seem to do anything," Rick said, staring under the sheet. "I mean, if anything, it looks like the baby's trying to go back in."

"It's _what?!"_ Jerry screamed, pushing again.

"Dad, that sounds like shoulder dystocia," Beth said from her position behind Jerry. "You know, when the baby's shoulder get stuck in the pelvis?"

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense with Jerry having a narrow man-pelvis. Let me just look this up."

"Y-you said the w-worst part was over!" Jerry sobbed.

" _Unless_ , Jerry, I said _Unless_!" Rick yelled back, frantically skimming the WikiHow article. "Okay, okay, no- _uhrp-_ nobody panic, I-I got this. Jerry, you're gonna need to-"

The iPad in Rick's hands suddenly exploded. "Wha-? What the _fuck_ , Apple?!" Rick complained, dropping the smoldering device before it could electrocute him.

"Put your hands in the air, Rick Sanchez."

The entire family turned to see a group of nine blue aliens in grey uniforms quickly filter into their dining room, all armed with laser rifles pointed at the Smiths. The one who had spoken held a small handgun that he aimed at Rick.

Rick made no attempt to raise his arms.

"Oh, thank god," he said in total seriousness. "For a second I thought I was holding a Samsung."

"I said 'hands in the air!'"

"Yeah, 'like you just don't care,' I heard you the first time," Rick said. "Look, I'd love to chat, but I'm literally in the middle of delivering a baby here. Seriously, it's half out."

The leader turned to a pair of Laurokians on his right. "Get the child."

"Now wait just a second," Rick said, standing between Jerry and the approaching aliens. Morty and Summer placed themselves at his right and left, holding up their own the laser guns. "I have no problem with you taking the baby and going. That was how Maikki and I planned it from the beginning. But I can't let you kill this idiot."

Jerry moaned again, still trying fruitlessly to push the rest of the baby out.

The pair of aliens looked back at their leader, awaiting instructions.

"You think invoking Maikki's name will excuse you for stealing her child?" the leader said, calmly.

"See, that's the thing, I didn't steal the kid, I _saved_ the kid. The- _uhrp-_ The _least_ you could do in return is not kill my son-in-law."

"How naive do you think I am?" the leader said. "Maikki didn't know this, but I am also a traveler. I have met and dealt with hundreds of Ricks before, and I've never seen one who could spare two thoughts about anyone but himself. Unless…" The Laurokian stared hard at Rick, as if trying to examine something beyond his outer appearance. "No, the chances are one in a million…"

"Not u _-uh_ -nder these circumstances," Rick said, smirking.

"Have you ever been to a planet called Glapflap?"

"Never set foot on it in my life. Had a nice stay on its third moon, though, if you don't count the part where ha- _ah-_ alf of my closest friends died."

"So it _is_ you. Have you heard what they are calling you?" He was slowly beginning to lower his gun.

"Yeah, I've heard, and it's fucking stupid. Besides, this is- _uhrp-_ this is it for me. I'm done. The galaxy's gonna have to find someone else to take its shit to the shit-store. I've got myself and four- _meh,_ three-point-five-other pains-in-my-ass to take care of these days."

"But you _were_ helping Maikki. She...She trusted you to help save Laurok?" The Laurokian's gun was now pointed safely at the carpet.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you motherfuckers. I'm on your fucking side. But, as much pleasure as it would bring me, I can't let you kill my daughter's husband...She'd never forgive me. So could you maybe tell your men to back the fuck off and let me handle this?"

The Laurokian leader nodded to the aliens on his right and left, who lowered their guns.

"You've got five minutes to deliver that baby alive."

"Won't need it," Rick said, now back between Jerry's legs. "Alright, Jerry, this is the home stretch. It's time to get this baby out."

* * *

"You need to turn over onto your hands and knees. The article said this can help open up the pelvis," Rick said, already nudging Jerry's right side.

"I can't- _AGH!-_ I can't move right now," Jerry said, still moaning in agony.

"You're gonna need to. Didn't you hear Beth? The baby is literally stuck. Now turn over."

Rick supported the baby's head as Beth worked with him to help turn Jerry onto his hands and knees, with little to no help from Jerry, who kept moaning with the current contraction.

"There you go, Jerry, come on now, big push!" Rick said, in his most encouraging, least sarcastic tone. Jerry groaned long and low as he pushed one last time. The rest of the alien baby slid out into Rick's waiting hands and Jerry collapsed onto the table.

"Holy shit, you actually did it," Rick said, emerging from under the sheet with a tiny, blue, fluid-covered alien. He held the baby face-down and gently patted its back until it gave a wet gasp and started crying. He handed it to Beth, who abandoned her post at Jerry's side to clamp and cut the umbilical cord with surgical scissors from the kit. She quickly wrapped the baby in one of the towels from the pile next to the table.

The Laurokian leader stepped forward, impatient. "Give it to me," he demanded.

Beth held the baby protectively against her chest and threw a worried glance at Rick.

"Give it to him, sweetie," Rick said, gently.

Beth glared at her father. "It's a 'he'," she grumbled, reluctantly passing the baby to the blue alien.

The Laurokian shifted the towel and studied the baby, curiously. "His coloring is strange…" He turned the baby over, running one hand over its back. "This...this child has wings!"

"Yep. You're looking at the galaxy's first and only documented Laurokian/Parckellite hybrid," Rick said.

"Disgusting," the Laurokian muttered, despite the intense interest he showed in the child.

"Yeah, it's still got a lot of gunk on it from being inside a human two minutes ago," Rick said, though he was well aware of what the alien really meant. "Give it back for a second, I need to clean it off and make sure it's breathing properly." He plucked the baby from the alien's arms, grabbed the pile of towels, and headed to the kitchen. He placed the towels in the left basin of the sink and began to clean the baby with warm water in the right basin. The Laurokian leader followed him.

"A hybrid child was never part of the plan. Maikki must have lied to hide her shame at being raped," the alien said, shaking his head in disgust.

"Good guess, but you got it all wrong. The birth of this little freak of nature was planned from the beginning. Well, obviously not the part where Maikki was killed and had to transfer the baby to Jerry, that was just crazy random happenstance."

"I'm not following," the alien said.

"The gist is that Maikki and this kid's Parckellite father have created the savior your people have been looking for," Rick said, gently rinsing the infant in the basin.

"This child's very existence is an abomination; I fail to see how you could possibly pass it off as our savior."

"Spare me the sermons, we both know you're only using your people's religion to keep control over them."

The Laurokian leader narrowed his eyes. "And you think you're so clever for deducing that?"

"An idiot could've figured it out. I just prefer we keep everything out in the open. Now listen up: The first step was to get the attention of Laurok and Parckel focused on one thing: the pregnancy of an important leader. Easy task with Laurok, since they're expecting a messiah any day now and Maikki was the perfect candidate to be its mother. It was easy to get Parckel's attention too: This kid poses a threat to the planet since everyone knows the moonies can't wait to unite under a cause like this one. We planned on dealing with assassination attempts, but, clearly, someone fucked up."

The Laurokian bowed his head. "That was our fault."

"Maikki used the last of her strength to save this baby. Now that we have it, the next step is to reveal to both sides what the baby truly is: a representation of peace and love between planet and moon."

"You can't be serious. Maikki fell in love with a Parckellite?"

"Of course not. Can't you recognize your own game? It doesn't matter what the truth is, it matters with the people _think_ is the truth."

Rick watched the wheels begin turning in the Laurokian's head.

"That's right," Rick continued, "You're seeing the headlines now, aren't you? 'Star-crossed Lovers Beget Child of Hope' or 'Interspecies Miracle Proves Race Compatibility.' Well, you know what? I got something even better. You see, I haven't even revealed our trump card yet-"

Rick was interrupted by a sudden scream from the dining room.

"Shit, now what?" Rick said, pulling a dry and bundled up alien baby from the left basin. He and the Laurokian leader rushed back into the dining room to find an orange, humanoid alien holding Morty tightly and pressing a gun against his head.

"Stan? What the _hell_ are you doing here?!" Rick said.

"I'm here for my son."

* * *

"Stan, I need you to stop for a second and think about what you're doing. We're friends, aren't we?" Rick said, alien baby in one arm and other arm outstretched in a pacifying gesture.

Tristan glanced over at the rest of Rick's family, grouped together around the kitchen table, holding each other for dear life.

"You told me not to get attached. And it turns out you're not just attached-you've bred!"

"And look at all the shit I'm getting for it!" Rick yelled back, gesturing to the room. "You know how much easier it would be if I didn't care what you do to these idiots?"

The Laurokian leader, who until now had held an expression of terrified wonder, finally spoke up.

"The Parckellite _Prince_ is the father?" he sputtered.

"Oh, great, another fan. Give me your underwear, I'll sign it," Tristan said, gun still held tightly against Morty's temple. "Look pal, I'm not a prince anymore. I'm bailing on this whole affair as soon as I get my son. Now, hand him over, Rick!"

"It's-It's perfect!" the Laurokian said, as if he hadn't heard. "Royal blood- easily proven with a DNA test. By their own laws, they will be forced to acknowledge him as a prince! And if we play up this fake love-story enough…"

"Are you listening to me? It's not fucking happening!"

"I think you need to calm down," the Laurokian leader said. He snapped his fingers and the rest of the Laurokians took aim at Tristan.

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on a second," Rick broke in, "We need to even out this Mexican standoff." He aimed his own gun at the newborn alien in his left arm. "There we go. N- _uh_ -ow we're getting somewhere!"

"Dad, what the fuck?!" Beth screamed.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading!**


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